


retreating depths

by dreamnants



Category: No Straight Roads (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, angst angst angst, i am still unable to think of tags, i think the summary speaks for itself, zuke is only mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29602044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamnants/pseuds/dreamnants
Summary: A piece of confusion, self-loathing and lonely introspection.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	retreating depths

**Author's Note:**

> This was finished months ago and posted on Tumblr, but I never thought to post it on here for some reason.
> 
> Maybe because I was being self-conscious.

Three weeks.

Nadia vaguely registered the fact in her mind, one of the loose thoughts that popped into her head in the slurry of emotions that enveloped her. 

It had been three weeks since she’d seen Zuke. And not a single response.

As if he’d vanished like the smoke that cradled the bright lights in his hair as he ran from her after Rupterika.

It was inevitable how everyone who she opened up to would eventually be driven away by her. She whose senses did not conform to the norms of the world. How everyone viewed it. Only she, who was alone in her world vision.

Nadia had been so happy to find someone who could see the world as she did with Zuke.

But it appears he was not so different in the end.That was likely why she didn’t try reaching out to him. The betrayal of his flight was enough that she’d been left in just numb shock that the days slipped by her.

The pain was expected, and yet not as much she’d anticipated.

Had it really been three weeks since?

In her work room, she blankly looked at the self-portrait bust in front of her, a remake of a similar piece she’d done years ago.

The entire bust was covered in blue paint.The various blues, from the delicate, faint hint of azure blue to the pitch dark blue that bordered the blackened night sky. The blues that seemed violet to the blues that seemed green. The blues that reminded one of the soft waves on the beach, and the blues the murky depths uncharted by man.

The sheer amount of paint flung onto the dried clay was enough that the colors began to ooze and meld together, slowly the nuances of shade and hue of each individual blue turning into some amalgamation blue.

Some of the paint happened to be dripping where her eyes were, appearing as if the bust had tear streaks. 

She blinked.

When did her sculpture become blue?

Nadia remembered sculpting the bust, but she hadn’t remembered when she apparently flung her entire stock of blue paints on said bust. 

Her vision caught the various flattened tubes and empty bottles that once had been the vessels of her blue paints scattered haphazardly throughout the workroom. Some were surrounding the bust seated on the table, some had fallen to the floor and she can tell a few were far from the workspace. 

She assumed she’d done so in a moment when her mind went blank, her hands on autopilot. That could explain why the empty vessels were placed sporadically. She’d probably thrown them the moment she forced every drop of color out of them to grab the next one.

Her hands were stained and smeared in blue as proof of her actions.

She cupped the chin of her bust, glaring at its imperfect face.

Dyed in the colors of the sea that left the earth.


End file.
